From The Jesuit Relations (1634)
Father Paul Le Jeune, Missionary to the Montagnais Indians
Source: http://museum.state.il.us/pub/dmmweb
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BACKGROUND: Paul Le Jeune was born to a French Huguenot family and converted to Roman Catholicism
as a teenager. After his ordination to the priesthood, he was placed in charge of the Jesuit Mission in Canada.
Like other French Jesuit priests, Fr. Le Jeune lived among the Indians he was trying to evangelize. Fr. Le
Jeune’s observations of the Montagnais Indians were published in the 1634 edition of the Jesuit Relations, an
annual compilation of accounts of Jesuit priests in North America.
CHAPTER IV.
ON THE BELIEF, SUPERSTITIONS, AND ERRORS OF THE MONTAGNAIS SAVAGES.
I have already reported that the Savages believe that a certain one named Atachocam had created the
world, and that one named Messou had restored it. I have questioned upon this subject the famous
Sorcerer and the old man with whom I passed the Winter; they answered that they did not know who
was the first Author of the world,- that it was perhaps Atahocham, but that was not certain; that they
only spoke of Atahocam as one speaks of a thing so far distant that nothing sure can be known about it;
and, in fact, the word "Nitatahokan " in their language means, "I relate a fable, I am telling an old story
invented for amusement.” ….
Their Religion, or rather their superstition, consists besides in praying; but O, my God, what prayers
they make! In the morning, when the little children come out from their Cabins, they shout, Cacouakhi,
Pakhais Amiscouakhi, Pakhais Mousouakhi, Pakhais, "Come, Porcupines; come, Beavers; come, Elk; " and
this is all of their prayers.
When the Savages sneeze, and sometimes even at other times, during the Winter, they cry out in a loud
voice, Etouctaian miraouinam an Mirouscamiklti, “I shall be very glad to see the Spring."
At other times, I have heard them pray for the Spring, or for deliverance from evils and other similar
things; and they express all these things in the form of desires, crying out as loudly as they can, "I would
be very glad if this day would continue, if the wind would change," etc. I could not say to whom these
wishes are addressed, for they themselves do not know, at least those whom I have asked have not been
able to enlighten me….
CHAPTER V.
ON THE GOOD THINGS WHICH ARE FOUND AMONG THE SAVAGES.
If we begin with physical advantages, I will say that they possess these in abundance. They are tall, erect,
strong, well proportioned, agile; and there is nothing effeminate in their appearance. Those little Fops
that are seen elsewhere are only caricatures of men, compared with our Savages…
As to the mind of the Savage, it is of good quality. I believe that souls are all made from the same stock,
and that they do not materially differ; hence, these barbarians having well formed bodies, and organs well
regulated and well arranged, their minds ought to work with ease. Education and instruction alone are
lacking. Their soul is a soil which is naturally good, but loaded down with all the evils that a land
abandoned since the birth of the world can produce. I naturally compare our Savages with certain
villagers, because both are usually without education, though our Peasants are superior in this regard; and
yet I have not seen any one thus far, of those who have come to this country, who does not confess and
frankly admit that the Savages are more intelligent than our ordinary peasants.
Moreover, if it is a great blessing to be free from a great evil, our Savages are happy; for the two tyrants
who provide hell and torture for many of our Europeans, do not reign in their great forests, - I mean
ambition and avarice. As they have neither political organization, nor offices, nor dignities, nor any
authority, for they only obey their Chief through good will toward him, therefore they never kill each
other to acquire these honors. Also, as they are contented with a mere living, not one of them gives
himself to the Devil to acquire wealth.
They make a pretence of never getting angry, not because of the beauty of this virtue, for which they
have not even a name, but for their own contentment and happiness, I mean, to avoid the bitterness
caused by anger. The Sorcerer said to me one day, speaking of one of our Frenchmen, "He has no sense,
he gets angry; as for me, nothing can disturb me; let hunger oppress me, let my nearest relation pass to
the other life, let the Iroquois, our enemies, massacre our people, I never get angry." What he says is not
an article of faith; for, as he is more haughty than any other Savage, so I have seen him oftener out of
humor than any of them; it is true also that he often restrains and governs himself by force, especially
when I expose his foolishness. I have only heard one Savage pronounce this word, Ninichcatihin, "I am
angry," and he only said it once. But I noticed that they kept their eyes on him, for when these
Barbarians are angry, they are dangerous and unrestrained.
Whoever professes not to get angry, ought also to make a profession of patience; the Savages surpass us
to such an extent, in this respect, that we ought to be ashamed. I saw them, in their hardships and in
their labors, suffer with cheerfulness … One thing alone casts them down,- it is when they see death, for
they fear this beyond measure; take away this apprehension from the Savages, and they will endure all
kinds of degradation and discomfort, and all kinds of trials and suffering very patiently…
They are very much attached to each other, and agree admirably. You do not see any disputes, quarrels,
enmities, or reproaches among them. Men leave the arrangement of the household to the women,
without interfering with them; they cut, and decide, and give away as they please, without making the
husband angry… I have never heard the women complain because they were not invited to the feasts,
because the men ate the good pieces, or because they had to work continually, going in search of the
wood for the fire, making the Houses, dressing the skins, and busying themselves in other very laborious
work. Each one does her own little tasks, gently and peacefully, without any disputes….
As there are many orphans among these people, for they die in great numbers since they are addicted to
drinking wine and brandy, these poor children are scattered among the Cabins of their uncles, aunts, or
other relatives. Do not suppose that they are snubbed and reproached because they eat the food of the
household. Nothing of the kind, they are treated the same as the children of the father of the family, or
at least almost the same, and are dressed as well as possible….
CHAPTER VI.
ON THEIR VICES AND THEIR IMPERFECTIONS.
The Savages, being filled with errors, are also haughty and proud. Humility is born of truth, vanity of
error and falsehood. They are void of the knowledge of truth, and are in consequence, mainly occupied
with thought of themselves. They imagine that they ought by right of birth, to enjoy the liberty of
wild ass colts, rendering no homage to any one whomsoever, except when they like. They have
reproached me a hundred times because we fear our Captains, while they laugh at and make sport of
theirs. All the authority of their chief is in his tongue's end; for he is powerful in so far as he is eloquent;
and, even if he kills himself talking and haranguing, he will not be obeyed unless he pleases the
Savages….
I have shown in my former letters how vindictive the Savages are toward their enemies, with what fury
and cruelty they treat them, eating them after they have made them suffer all that an incarnate fiend
could invent. This fury is common to the women as well as to the men, and they even surpass the latter
in this respect. I have said that they eat the lice they find upon themselves, not that they like the taste of
them, but because they want to bite those that bite them.
These people are very little moved by compassion. When any one is sick in their Cabins, they ordinarily
do not cease to cry and storm, and make as much noise as if everybody were in good health. They do not
know what it is to take care of a poor invalid, and to give him the food which is good for him; if he asks
for something to drink, it is given to him, if he asks for something to eat, it is given to him, but otherwise
he is neglected; to coax him with love and gentleness, is a language which they do not understand. As
long as a patient can eat, they will carry or drag him with them; if he stops eating, they believe that it is all
over with him and kill him, as much to free him from the sufferings that he is enduring, as to relieve
themselves of the trouble of taking him with them when they go to some other place…
The Savages are slanderous beyond all belief; I say, also among themselves, for they do not even spare
their nearest relations, and with it all they are deceitful. For, if one speaks ill of another, they all jeer with
loud laughter; if the other appears upon the scene, the first one will show him as much affection and
treat him with as much love, as if he had elevated him to the third heaven by his praise. The reason of
this is, it seems to me, that their slanders and derision do not come from malicious hearts or from
infected mouths, but from a mind which says what it thinks in order to give itself free scope, and
which seeks gratification from everything, even from slander and mockery. Hence they are not troubled
even if they are told that others are making sport of them, or have injured their reputation. All they
usually answer to such talk is, mama irinisiou, "He has no sense, he does not know what he is talking
about;" and at the first opportunity they will pay their slanderer in the same coin, returning him the like.
Lying is as natural to Savages as talking, not among themselves, but to strangers. Hence it can be said
that fear and hope, in one word, interest, is the measure of their fidelity. I would not be willing to
trust them, except as they would fear to be punished if they failed in their duty, or hoped to be rewarded
if they were faithful to it. They do not know what it is to keep a secret, to keep their word, and to love
with constancy, especially those who are not of their nation, for they are harmonious among themselves,
and their slanders and raillery do not disturb their peace and friendly intercourse.
The Savages have always been gluttons, but since the coming of the Europeans they have become such
drunkards, that, although they see clearly that these new drinks, the wine and brandy, which are brought
to them, are depopulating their country, of which they themselves complain, they cannot abstain from
drinking, taking pride in getting drunk and in making others drunk. It is true that they die in great
numbers; but I am astonished that they can resist it as long as they do. For, give two Savages two or
three bottles of brandy, they will sit down and, without eating, will drink, one after the other, until they
have emptied them. [The conduct of French colonial officals] is remarkably praiseworthy in forbidding
the traffic in these liquors. Monsieur de Champlain very wisely takes care that these restrictions are
observed, and I have heard that Monsieur the General du Plessis has had them enforced at Tadoussac. I
have been told that the Savages are tolerably chaste. I shall not speak of all, not having been among them
all; but those whom I have met are very lewd, both men and women. God! what blindness! How great is
the happiness of Christian people! …
They are dirty in their habits, in their postures, in their homes, and in their eating; yet there is no lack of
propriety among them, for everything that gives satisfaction to the senses, passes as propriety.
I have said that they are dirty in their homes; the entrance to their Cabins is like a pig-pen. They never
sweep their houses, they carpet them at first with branches of pine, but on the third day these branches
are full of fur, feathers, hair, shavings, or whittlings of wood. Yet they have no other seats, nor beds
upon which to sleep. From this it may be seen how full of dirt their clothes must be; it is true that this
dirt and filth does not show as much upon their clothes as upon ours….
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT ONE MUST SUFFER IN WINTERING WITH THE SAVAGES.
Imagine now a great ring or square in the snow, two, three or four feet deep, according to the weather or
the place where they encamp. This depth of snow makes a white wall for us, which surrounds us on all
sides, except the end where it is broken through to form the door. The framework having been brought,
which consists of twenty or thirty poles, more or less, according to the size of the cabin, it is planted, not
upon the ground but upon the snow; then they throw upon these poles, which converge a little at the
top, two or three rolls of bark sewed together, beginning at the bottom, and behold, the house is
made. The ground inside, as well as the wall of snow which extends all around the cabin, is covered with
little branches of fir; and, as a finishing touch, a wretched skin is fastened to two poles to serve as a door,
the doorposts being the snow itself...
You cannot stand upright in this house, as much on account of its low roof as the suffocating smoke;
and consequently you must always lie down, or sit flat upon the ground, the usual posture of the
Savages. When you go out, the cold, the snow, and the danger of getting lost in these great woods drive
you in again more quickly than the wind, and keep you a prisoner in a dungeon which has neither lock
nor key.
This prison, in addition to the uncomfortable position that one must occupy upon a bed of
earth, has four other great discomforts, cold, heat, smoke, and dogs. As to the cold, you have the
snow at your head with only a pine branch between, often nothing but your hat, and the winds are free
to enter in a thousand places…
Nevertheless, the cold did not annoy me as much as the heat from the fire. A little place like their cabins
is easily heated by a good fire, which sometimes roasted and broiled me on all sides, for the cabin was so
narrow that I could not protect myself against the heat. You cannot move to right or left, for the
Savages, your neighbors, are at your elbows; you cannot withdraw to the rear, for you encounter the wall
of snow, or the bark of the cabin which shuts you in. I did not know what position to take. Had I
stretched myself out, the place was so narrow that my legs would have been halfway in the fire; to roll
myself up in a ball, and crouch down in their way, was a position I could not retain as long as they could;
my clothes were all scorched and burned…
But, as to the smoke, I confess to you that it is martyrdom. It almost killed me, and made me weep
continually, although I had neither grief nor sadness in my heart. It sometimes grounded all of us who
were in the cabin; that is, it caused us to place our mouths against the earth in order to breathe. For,
although the Savages were accustomed to this torment, yet occasionally it became so dense that they, as
well as I, were compelled to prostrate themselves, and as it were to eat the earth, so as not to drink the
smoke. I have sometimes remained several hours in this position, especially during the most severe cold
and when it snowed; for it was then the smoke assailed us with the greatest fury, seizing us by the throat,
nose, and eyes…
Someone will tell me that I ought to have gone out from this smoky hole to get some fresh air; and I
answer him that the air was usually so cold at those times that the trees, which have a harder skin than
man, and a more solid body, could not stand it, splitting even to the core, and making a noise like the
report of a musket. Nevertheless, I occasionally emerged from this den, fleeing the rage of the smoke to
place myself at the mercy of the cold, against which I tried to arm myself by wrapping up in my blanket
like an Irishman; and in this garb, seated upon the snow or a fallen tree, I recited my Hours; the trouble
was, the snow had no more pity upon my eyes than the smoke.
As to the dogs, which I have mentioned as one of the discomforts of the Savages' houses, I do not
know that I ought to blame them, for they have sometimes rendered me good service… These poor
beasts, not being able to live outdoors, came and lay down sometimes upon my shoulders, sometimes
upon my feet, and as I only had one blanket to serve both as covering and mattress, I was not sorry for
this protection, willingly restoring to them a part of the heat which I drew from them. It is true that, as
they were large and numerous, they occasionally crowded and annoyed me so much, that in giving me a
little heat they robbed me of my sleep, so that I very often drove them away….
We occasionally had some good meals; but for every good dinner we went three times without
supper. When a young Savage of our cabin was dying of hunger… they often asked me if I was not
afraid, if I had no fear of death; and seeing me quite firm, they were astonished, on one occasion in
particular, when I saw them almost falling into a state of despair. When they reach this point, they play,
so to speak, at "save himself who can;" throwing away their bark and baggage, deserting each other, and
abandoning all interest in the common welfare, each one strives to find something for himself. Then the
children, women, and for that matter all those who cannot hunt, die of cold and hunger. If they had
reached this extremity, I would have been among the first to die.
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